


Handle With Care

by Rinshi



Series: A Snowball's Chance [1]
Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Fluff and Angst, Hurt/Comfort, Meihem - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-09
Updated: 2016-08-09
Packaged: 2018-08-07 14:24:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7718260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rinshi/pseuds/Rinshi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the recently-recruited Junkrat falls ill, a rather reticent Mei is left alone to care for the junker at the Watchpoint. Hijinks shall ensue, bond may be formed and tested, and why is Jamison naked?!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part One

Everyone was gone.

Most of the agents of Overwatch were already out on missions. Those who were left at the Watchpoint had been summoned when an emergency cropped up. Mei hadn’t really gotten the details before everyone was preparing to go rushing off into danger, but she’d been suiting up to join them when Tracer had stopped her.

“Oh, uh, sorry love,” the time-jumper had said with an apologetic smile, “D’you think you could sit this one out here at base?”

“What?” Mei had asked with a surprised stumble as she struggled with a boot.

“Well, you see, it’s that Junkrat fella …”

The explosives-crazed junker had managed to get himself sick, and apparently  _ someone _ needed to stay behind to keep an eye on him. Why that someone had to be  _ her _ , Mei couldn’t fathom. If he was sick, shouldn’t someone with medical training be watching him? No, Lena had explained, since everyone else was already away, no one could be recalled in time. So Mei sat, grumbling and alone, at the Overwatch base. Alone except for  _ him _ , of course.

“Damn it, I’m a climatologist,” she muttered as she fiddled with a piece of her equipment, “not a doctor.”

She sighed and placed the gadget back on the desk, pushing her glasses up with a hand to rub her eyes and pinch the bridge of her nose; a headache was starting to form there. Another sigh. It was only for a day or two, and, after all, he  _ was _ a member of the team now.  She’d better check on him, then, and get it over with.

Outside of his door she straightened her glasses and hesitated, the silence of the halls around her at once eerie and deafening. What was she even supposed to do, exactly? She sincerely hoped she wouldn’t need to touch him; the smell would stick to her for a week. She grimaced and knocked lightly, but there was no response. Maybe he was asleep? Her heart lightened at the thought and she grasped the doorknob. A quick peek in the room to make sure he wasn’t dead and she’d be on her way. She opened the door and poked her head in.

“Heh…  _ HATCHOO! _ ”

Nope. Not sleeping. Jamison Fawkes – the man known as Junkrat – was sitting up in his bed, rubbing his nose with his good hand after having sneezed massively in her direction. Mei’s face twisted in revulsion.

“Ugh, cover your mouth!” she snapped, “That’s disgusting.”

“Oh, g’day, Mei!” he chirped brightly, “Yeah, they are rather  _ explosive _ , ain’t they?”

Mei rolled her eyes and opened the door fully as Jamison descended into a fit of giggles at his own stupid joke.  Her own nose was assaulted by the reek of gunpowder and burnt rubber. The junker’s room was, of course, an absolute wreck and probably a fire hazard. He wasn’t allowed to keep any actual weapons in the room (they had implemented that rule after he’d blown up his first quarters), but that didn’t stop him from leaving parts and pieces of machinery and other random knickknacks on every available surface. His prosthetic limbs were unceremoniously strewn on the floor next to the bed, probably having been dropped there when Jamison went to sleep the previous night. A few tires were propped in a corner.

“How are you feeling?” she asked, though the question sounded more like an accusation than a genuine expression of concern.

“Oh, I’m fine, snowball,” he replied, though a sniffle and cough spoke otherwise, “Ya know me: takes a lickin’, keeps on tickin’.”

He grinned and laid back, placing his good left arm behind his head and crossing his leg stump over his other leg while he absentmindedly rubbed at his chest with his arm stump. Was he trying to look nonchalant? Mei frowned. It was weird, but then, it was Jamison. She put a hand on her hip.

“So do you need anything?” she asked, regret swift and immediate as he sprang back up in bed, eyes glistening.

“If that means what I think it do, then  _ ‘ello nurse! _ ” he cried.

“I am  _ not _ a nurse,” she growled, scowling, “I’m only doing this because Lena asked me to, so don’t get any ideas!”

“Oh, no, no, of  _ course _ not,” Jamison replied with a smirk, then he made a big show of putting his hand on his chin to think, “Ah, let’s see now… I could use somethin’ to drink.”

“A drink?” Mei echoed, eyebrows raising. That sounded surprisingly simple.

“Yeah,” Jamison’s smirk widened, “Milk tea with boba, half sweet. I’m sure that’d make me feel  _ loads _ better. Ta, snowball.”

Mei blew an exasperated breath through her nose.

“We don’t have that here” she told him, “Pick something simpler.”

“How ‘bout a snowcone?” he suggested, “That oughta be easy peasy for ya!”

“That’s  _ not _ a drink.”

“Whiskey?”

“No!”

“Well, why don’tcha bring some water and a bread crust if yer so set on treatin me like a prisoner? Is it cuz I’m an Aussie? It’s cuz I’m an Aussie, ain’t it.”

Jamison settled back into the bed again, that maniacal grin plastered on his face, and little eddies of soot swirled around him. Mei narrowed her eyes and adjusted her glasses, taking in the disastrous state that Jamison’s bedclothes were in. They were just as covered in soot and grime as their owner, and burnt in a few places as well. Perhaps it was time to change the subject.

“You need to shower,” she said, her voice low and commanding.

Jamison’s eyebrows raised in surprise. “Eh?”

“I said you need to shower,” she repeated, louder, adding, “You’re not going to get better if you’re filthy all of the time.”

Now it was Jamison’s turn to scowl as he sat up again.

“I’ll have ya know being ‘filthy’ gets me immune system strong as to kill germs just by lookin’ at ‘em,” he spat, but he was then struck by a fit of coughing.

Mei only raised an eyebrow and smirked, and Jamison’s cheeks colored a bit.

“This is an exception!” he protested between coughs, “The exception proves the rule, right? Ain’t that what you scientist-y types say?”

Mei grimaced and pinched the bridge of her nose again. She was going to need some strong painkillers.

“That’s not what that phrase- Look, it doesn’t matter. You’re sick, and being dirty isn’t going to help. So  _ please _ get a shower.”

“Can’t a bloke just kick back and take a nice relaxing sickie? I don’t know what’s got ya all clucky of a sudden, but didn’t ya just tell me yer not a nurse?”

“It’s just  _ common sense. _ Or didn’t you learn that growing up? Maybe if you bathed more often you wouldn’t be sick.”

“Ah, well,” Jamison laughed, “when yer scraping along just to survive,  _ bathing  _ ain't exactly a top priority.”

“Oh, right, you’re a  _ junker, _ ” Mei sneered, “Selfish and greedy, with no thought toward anything but what  _ you _ want. You would think you would learn to take better care of yourself.”

For half a heartbeat something dark passed behind Jamison’s eyes, and Mei was suddenly very aware of the fact that she was alone with a madman who had a reputation for murder and mayhem. She took a half step back, but Jamison didn’t move or make any indication that she was in danger. Instead he simply spoke, his voice low and devoid of any of his usual mirth or sarcasm.

“Don’t talk like ya know me. Ya don't know anything  _ about _ me. Maybe if  _ you _ had grown up in a radioactive wasteland ya’d have a slightly different outlook on life.”

He coughed again and laid back down, turning his back to Mei.

“Y’know what? I don’t need a nursemaid,” he grumbled, “I  _ can  _ take care of meself, so rack off.”

“Fine,” Mei spat, but the word lacked any of the heat she had possessed moments before.

The door closed behind her with a  _ snick _ , a strange mix of emotions roiling in Mei’s gut as she left the junker’s room behind.

“Damn him,” she muttered, “ _ and _ his milk tea.”

She made her way back to her desk and her gear. Her drone hovered toward her with a cheerful chirp, and Mei reached out a hand to pat it absentmindedly.

“Hey, Snowball,” she murmured, then she frowned as she remembered Jamison’s voice echoing the same phrase at her.

She looked down at her equipment and picked up her blaster, turning it over in her hands without really paying attention to it. Her mind was elsewhere as something else Jamison had said rang through the back of her mind.

“ _ Don’t talk like ya know me.” _

The words stuck like a lead weight in the pit of her stomach. What  _ did _ she know about him? That he was a criminal and a bully, that he was a loose cannon who needed to kept on a short leash, that if left to his own devices he didn’t care who or what he had to blow up to get what he wanted. Of his past she only knew what she had read in his file, but what if… What if that wasn’t the whole story?

If what she had just seen was any indication, there might be more to Jamison Fawkes than she had thought. The look in his eyes when he had mentioned his past spoke of a buried pain, and she suddenly wondered if he had turned his back on her not out of anger, but out of shame for revealing that pain to her.

“Agh!” Mei cried, grabbing her head as she shook it, “I’m giving him too much credit!”

She was probably just being naïve, wanting to see the good in everyone - even someone like him. She and Jamison didn't get along - they had  _ never  _ gotten along - and why should they? He had his uses, and he’d certainly gotten her out of a scrape or two since he had joined the team, but that didn't make him a good person or atone for his past crimes.

A no-good bully. That's what she had called him when they had first met in person after she had read his file, and he had done little to sweeten her disposition toward him since then. The overly familiar pet name, the constant teasing; he had done nothing to deserve her kindness.

So why did she feel guilty for upsetting him?

Mei tried to focus on the blaster in her hands; she just needed to keep busy and push the thoughts from her mind. No matter what she did, though, that one question continued to burn on the edge of her thoughts as the sun tracked its way across the sky outside the windows.


	2. Part Two

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The second part of a Meiham fan fiction wherein Mei and Junkrat find themselves in a rather slippery situation.

No one had yet returned to base by the time evening was falling. Mei had left a tray with a bowl of soup outside of Jamison’s door; after all, she couldn’t just let him starve. She’d even made some tea with milk and a little sugar, but there was no way she was going to try to find boba. When she’d passed by again an hour or so later the tray was gone, and a little knot of worry in her stomach that she hadn't even been aware of had loosened.

It was probably about an hour or so after that when she heard it. She was back to work, this time collating a report on climate data she had collected during her latest excursion to the Arctic, when there was a loud clangor from somewhere in the base. Mei leapt up from her chair like a startled cat, hands automatically reaching for her blaster. The pack was awkward without the extra padding of her coat, but she managed to sling it on over her tank top as she went to investigate. Was it a surprise attack? Had Talon somehow found out that the base was mostly empty?

As much as she hated to admit that she needed his help, taking on an enemy attack by herself was probably not the best strategy, so she headed for Jamison’s room. When she arrived she was surprised to find the door slightly ajar.

“Junkrat?” she whispered harshly as she pushed the door further open.

A quick scan of the room told her that he wasn’t there. The tray with empty bowl and cup were abandoned on a side table. His prosthetics were gone from the floor, so he must have left at some point. Mei relaxed. Well, that sound she’d heard was probably just him, then, tinkering with something or trying to blow it up. Still, she thought, it was best to make certain that the base was secure.

Mei adjusted her pack and continued through the base, heading for the workshop at the edge of the base where Jamison kept his weapons. Another sound stopped her in her tracks, however: the sound of running water.

“No way,” she murmured, “He  _ wouldn’t. _ ”

She followed the sound, and, sure enough, ended up outside of one of the bathrooms. Inside she could hear the unmistakable hiss of a shower running. Incredulous, she knocked on the door.

“Junkrat?” she called, but there was no response.

She tried again, a little louder, and still nothing. Her pulse quickened. Jamison likely didn't wear his prosthetics to bathe, and that surely made balance difficult. What if that crash had been him? If he had fallen, he could be seriously injured.

Mei placed her blaster and energy pack on the floor. She grasped the doorknob: locked.

“Junkrat!” she called again, “Are you alright?”

The only response was the continued hiss of the shower, and she rattled the doorknob, a touch frantic.

“Jamison?!”

A sound like a moan floated through the door, and Mei’s heart rate rose even further. She shoved on the door, trying to force it, but she couldn't get it to budge. With a grunt she tried again, putting her shoulder into it, and was rewarded with a slight wiggle. Two steps back, then she lowered her shoulder, grit her teeth, charged, and - 

The door swung inwards, revealing a rather confused Jamison in a towel.

Mei tried to stop. She really, truly tried, but there just wasn’t the time or space to halt her momentum. The last thing she saw before they both hit the floor was Jamison’s bare torso in her face.

Groaning, it took Mei a moment to realize that she had ended up on top of Jamison on the floor of the bathroom. As her cheeks grew hotter she tried desperately to push off and away from him, but the tile floor was rather slick and her arms pinwheeled uselessly. It was, of course, at that moment that Jamison turned his head to the side and unleashed another huge sneeze. The force of it jostled Mei against his body, still a bit wet and naked save for the now-precariously-draped towel, and her cheeks continued flushing with what was surely the brightest blush she had ever experienced in her life.

Jamison turned back toward her, a touch of pink in his own cheeks as a sly grin crept across his face.

“Well,” he murmured, his voice a bit husky, “that’s a fine how d’ya do…”

She couldn’t seem to come up with a witty comeback to that for some reason, so she sputtered out a stream of profanity instead.

“Sorry,” Jamison said, grinning, “I don’t speak Chinese.”

“Wh-what  _ happened?! _ ” she spat, “There was a  _ crash _ , and-”

“Prob’ly just me arm and leg fell over,” he explained, waving his stump toward said limbs lying askew a few feet away, “Been known to happen. Causes a bit of a ruckus. Now I  _ know _ I’m a spunky fella, but to think ya’d be breakin’ down the  _ door _ for me-.”

“I thought you were hurt!” she screeched, “Why didn’t you answer me?!”

“Couldn’t hear ya with the shower on at first. Then when I did hear somethin’, well, have ya ever tried to cross a room with one leg? And in the nuddy no less. Takes a bit.”

“Well why didn’t you say something  _ then? _ ”

“Uh…” here his grin turned somewhat sheepish, “Slipped me mind?”

Mei practically growled as she at last scrambled (carefully) out of his lap.

“I can't  _ believe  _ I was actually concerned about you,” she grumbled, fixing her glasses with one hand and her hair ornament with the other.

“Oi am  _ touched _ , snowball, truly,” he began, but then that sarcastic grin faltered a bit and he looked away as he sat up straighter and fidgeted with his towel, “Er, thanks fer the tucker, by the way…”

“The what?” Mei asked, brows furrowing.

“The  _ grub _ ,” the junker clarified, still not meeting her gaze, “It was… It was good.”

For a moment she still wasn't certain what he was talking about, but then she realized he meant the food she had left him, and her cheeks flushed again. If anything she had expected him to complain or find some other way to tease her about it; she hadn't been expecting gratitude.

“Oh, you're welcome,” she finally stammered when she at last remembered to speak.

Jamison coughed and fiddled with his arm stump, picking at the metal rod that protruded from the end of it. The rod was likely embedded in the bone, and it socketed into his prosthesis when attached. Mei had never bothered to take a close look at the mechanism before, or, really, Jamison himself. She’d certainly never seen him  _ clean _ before. She was surprised to see that under the usual layer of black filth his skin was fair and flecked with a few smatterings of freckles. With his hair clean and slicked back and the way he was bashfully avoiding eye contact, he actually looked rather-

Mei derailed  _ that _ particular train of thought before it arrived at a destination she might regret later.

“Oi, don't tell Roadie about what I just said, alright?” Jamison was muttering, “I’ll never hear the end of it.”

Perhaps it was the absurdity of the situation, or the thought that anyone could never hear the end of anything from the taciturn giant that was Roadhog, but whatever the reason, Mei couldn't stop herself from bursting out giggling just then. When she opened her eyes she caught Jamison staring at her with an expression she couldn't interpret, but she thought his cheeks were a bit redder than they had been a moment before. It was only a split second before he recovered, though, and then he was his grinning usual self again.

“This is no laughing matter, snowball!” he proclaimed dramatically, “I got me reputation to uphold!”

Mei rolled her eyes as she climbed to her feet, but she smiled and offered Jamison a hand up.

“Fine,” she told him, “but you owe me.”

“Ya drive a hard bargain,” he replied, taking her hand, “Oh, and, uh, don’t blame me if ya get an eyeful.”

“An eyeful…?” she echoed, confused, and as he pulled himself up she realized that he didn’t have another hand to hold up his towel. She flung her gaze up at the ceiling as the towel fell to the floor, and she wondered if she was ever going to  _ stop _ blushing today.

“I’ll let you finish with the shower, then!” she blurted, and then she fled the room with all of the grace and decorum of a cat on fire.


	3. Part Three

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final part of a Meihem fan fiction wherein messes are made and cleaned, but not necessarily in that order.

When her pulse had slowed to something more resembling a normal rate and less like the flutterings of a panicked bird, Mei found herself outside of Jamison’s quarters. The door was still open, as she’d left it, and for a moment she simply stood staring into the empty room. Why had her feet taken her here? With what had just happened, though, was it really any surprise? Of course the lanky junker was on her mind: she’d come perilously close to seeing much more of him than she had ever wanted to.

A blush threatened to creep up her cheeks again at the thought, so she shook her head in an effort to clear it. She just needed a distraction, she thought. Seeing the state of Jamison’s room in front of her, she was struck by an idea of something that could occupy her time. Jamison had finally been convinced to take a shower (a feat she was inclined to take full credit for), and she wasn't about to let him ruin it by rolling around in a filthy bed.

As she stripped the bed she noted that, judging from the way the blankets and cushions were arranged, it appeared that Jamison had a propensity for  _ nesting _ . She briefly considered attempting to launder the bedclothes, but with the amount of holes and burn marks she decided they were a lost cause. And if she was throwing out the sheets anyway, she might as well gather up the empty bottles and cans that she found stashed under the bed...

A little while later she was feeling much calmer. She had always found cleaning to be a soothing activity. Clean environments were so much more relaxing to be in, and the sense of accomplishment that came with it was refreshing, even for something so simple. She was back at her desk, reading data from the weather array she had mounted on the roof of the Watchpoint. She frowned; something about the data wasn’t adding up. She knew for a fact that it was a rather blustery autumn evening, but the data she was receiving looked more like what she would expect from a balmy spring day. She tried a few different tweaks to fix the program, but no matter what she tried the data remained the same. Something must be wrong with the weather array itself, then.

She gathered her tools and was about to grab her coat to head up to the roof when she heard the sound of mismatched footsteps, swiftly approaching. She turned just as Jamison burst into the room, clean, dressed, and looking frantic.

“Junkrat, wha-?” she barely squeaked out before he was looming over her, his mechanical hand closing firmly around her wrist.

“Oi, snowball, c’mere,” he barked, and he led her from the room.

“What’s going on?” Mei asked, alarmed and struggling to keep up with the much taller man’s loping strides, but Jamison ignored her protests until he had dragged her all the way back to his quarters.

He pointed through the open doorway into the room.

“What did  _ you do?! _ ” he demanded, eyes wild and alight with anger.

“I-I-” Mei stammered, confused, “I cleaned?”

“Ya  _ cleaned _ ,” Jamison spat, treating the word like a curse, “How could ya do that?!”

Mei finally wrenched her arm out of his grasp and glared up at him, rubbing her wrist.

“Your room was a  _ disaster _ ,” she replied, regaining her composure, “It needed to be cleaned. I didn’t even  _ do _ that much; I only threw out the trash and organized things a little.”

Jamison stepped into the room and spun around, arms spread in a wide gesture.

“‘A little?’ What’m I s’posed to do with this?” he shouted, “How’m I s’posed to  _ find _ anythin’ now?!”

He pointed at the now pristinely made bed.

“And how’m I s’posed to sleep in  _ that?! _ ”

Mei’s scowl deepened and she placed her hands on her hips.

“ _ You’re _ clean,  _ it’s _ clean,” she snapped, as though explaining to a particularly slow child, “Maybe now you’ll  _ stay _ clean for more than two minutes.”

“ _ My _ things.  _ Mine _ ,” Jamison growled, rounding on her again, his movements erratic, “Do I- Do I get in yer bizzo? Hm? Do I  _ fiddle  _ with yer silly weather thingos? No! So don’t- don’t  _ touch _ me things. I-I-I have a  _ system _ , and- and ya had ta go and  _ meddle _ with things-”

He broke off into a fit of coughing, and Mei launched into the gap, hands balled into tight fists.

“‘ _ Silly weather thingos?!’ _ ” she shouted, “How dare you, you... you horrible, ungrateful  _ jerk! _ I was right about you: you  _ are _ just a bully! Why did I bother trying to do something  _ nice _ for you?”

“Ya call  _ this _ somethin’ nice?! Ya  _ ruined _ me room!”

“I was  _ trying _ to help!”

“Well  _ don’t! _ ”

“Fine!” Mei screeched, tears stinging the corners of her eyes, “I’m done with you! I am  _ through  _ trying to be nice to you if this is the thanks that I get! I’m sure you don’t want someone like me  _ meddling _ with you anymore, anyway! Take care of your own damn self!”

She stormed out of the room, scrubbing at her eyes with the back of her hand and picking up speed until she was flat out running back to her own quarters. She slammed the door behind her and locked it, sitting heavily on her bed as tears ran quietly down her cheeks.

How could Jamison be so unbelievably callous and rude? No, how could  _ she _ have ever expected him to be anything otherwise? Lena was going to get an earful for asking her to do this, and Mei was going to have as little as possible to do with that disgusting junker again.

Once her tears had dried and her chest had stopping giving silent little hics, Mei set her jaw and left her quarters. She was certain to give Jamison’s room a wide berth as she made her way back to her lab to fetch her tools and coat, and then she headed for the Watchpoint’s roof. She was Mei-Ling Zhou, renowned climatologist, and she would be damned if she was going to let the antics of some deranged jerk keep her from her work.

She set up a mobile workstation to monitor the array’s output and set to work. First she hooked Snowball up to the array and ran a diagnostic, but sadly that didn’t shed any light on the problem. She sighed; nothing was ever easy. Time to do things the hard way, then. She systematically went through each component and connection, testing each one to see which part was malfunctioning, but nearly an hour later she was still at a loss. Everything appeared to be in working order, so what was causing the strange readings?

She was musing over what next step she should take when she heard someone clumping up the stairs to the roof. Mei placed a hand on the back of her neck and grimaced, screwing her eyes shut against the resurgence of the headache she’d had earlier. Maybe, just maybe, it wasn’t him. Maybe someone else had returned from a mission and was coming up to check in with her. Maybe whoever it was had sustained a leg injury, and  _ that _ was why their gait sounded off, not because it was-

“Hey, snowball.”

Damn it.

She grabbed a wrench and started tightening a few bolts where the satellite dish connected to the rest of the array. She didn’t even bother to look in Jamison’s direction.

“What do  _ you _ want?” she snapped, “Can’t you see that I’m busy?”

“Ah, yeah,” he mumbled with a nervous laugh, “Somethin’ wrong with yer weather thingo?”

“Oh, so it’s not  _ silly _ this time?” she spat icily, and she could almost hear Jamison cringe.

She waited for him to say something, but instead he silently made his way around the array, studying it. As he passed through her field of vision, Mei noticed that he was, as usual, shirtless, and she rolled her eyes.

“You idiot! Do you want to get sicker?” she demanded, “You should go inside and rest!”

He waved a dismissive hand at her, then pointed at the large cable that ran from the array to the building.

“This where the power goes in?” he asked.

Mei brows knit together, and she replied in the affirmative with a slight degree of hesitation. With horror she watched as he unceremoniously yanked the cable from the unit, the entire array going dark with a decreasing whine.

“Wh-what are you doing?!” she cried, eyes wide, “Why would you-?! You can’t just-!  _ Aaaaagh! _ ”

In a fit of anger she threw her wrench at him, and he actually smirked as he easily dodged the makeshift projectile.

“Are you doing this to get back at me?” Mei shouted, “Are you  _ really _ that petty that you’d-”

“Calm down, snowball,” Jamison cut her off with a grin, “Keep yer pantyhose on an’ just watch.”

“M-my p-panty-” she sputtered, but before she could choke out anything else Jamison plugged the cable back into the array.

The unit thrummed to life, lights flickering on across it as a fresh stream of data started flowing across the screen of the computer at her workstation. Mei scrambled over to it, pushing her glasses up her nose as she studied the new data. Her jaw dropped.

“I don’t believe it…” she murmured.

Jamison sidled up to her, a smug grin on his face. He cleared his throat.

“Workin’ any better?” he asked.

“Did you… Did you really just fix my weather array by  _ turning it off and turning it back on? _ ” Mei said, incredulous.

Jamison gave a one-shouldered shrug.

“Sometimes if a gizmo’s actin’ up, all it really needs is a lil’ nap,” was all the explanation he offered.

Mei bit her lip as she stared at the computer screen and the now-accurate data that flowed across it. Was this Jamison’s way of apologizing for yelling at her? She sighed and offered the tall junker a begrudging, “Thanks.”

Jamison flashed her a grin, but it wasn’t his usual unhinged grimace; it was warm and genuine, his eyes squinched closed as he reached out his good hand and ruffled her hair. Then he turned and started making his way across the roof, but instead of heading back inside he climbed up to a higher vantage point and sat down, staring up at the dark sky. He coughed a few times and hugged his arms to his chest, and Mei sighed before trotting back into the base.

A few minutes later she was clambering up to where Jamison sat on the roof. She deposited the thick blanket she was carrying around his shoulders, and he looked up at her with a raised eyebrow.

“It’ll make trouble for me if you get sicker under my watch,” Mei grumbled, “So don’t read too much into it.”

Jamison pulled the blanket around himself and chuckled, “Sure. Ta, snowball.”

For a moment Mei just stood there awkwardly, and she contemplated leaving him there alone on the roof, but there was something in the way he was gazing up at the stars that made her sit down next to him instead. They stayed that way for some time, neither speaking, as more and more stars twinkled to life overhead like the sparkling refraction of light from a faceted piece of ice.

It was Jamison who at last broke the silence.

“Er, by the by, sn- uh, Mei,” he stammered awkwardly, “I shouldn’t’ve gone off on ya back there. I’m… I’m sorry.”

The words sounded stiff and strange, as though they were foreign to him, and Mei wondered if Jamison Fawkes had ever apologized for anything before in his life. Before she could respond, however, he continued.

“It’s just… Oi ain’t  _ used _ ta this kinda thing. Livin’ with people. Sleepin’ in a  _ bed _ . Eatin’ good on the regular,” he gestured up at the sky, “ _ This _ is more what I’m used ta. Stayin’ out under the open sky. I was on me own ‘fore I took up with Roadie. Used ta look at the stars a lot back then. One of the only good things ‘bout livin’ in that godforsaken waste. Not much light pollution. Now I’m  _ here _ , and… Well, fittin’ in ain’t one ‘a me strong points…”

For a moment Mei was speechless. She’d never expected Jamison to open up like this to her. He seemed to sense her thoughts and he gave an embarrassed laugh.

“Listen ta me earbashin’ ya,” he chuckled, “I’m sure ya don’t wanna hear it.”

“No, no, it’s ok,” Mei assured him, “In a strange way… it makes me kind of happy.”

Her cheeks flushed. What was she saying?!

“Y-you know,” she added hurriedly, “because a sense of camaraderie is important in a team, that’s all.”

Jamison laughed at that, and Mei’s cheeks grew redder.

“Camaraderie, eh?” he mused, “Sounds nice.”

“... It is.”

Silence fell between them again, and Mei fidgeted by Jamison’s side. She was seated to his right, and she found her gaze drawn to his prosthetic limbs. They were quite sophisticated, only slightly more crude than the level of what Dr. Zeigler could build. They were also very clean, a stark contrast to any of Jamison’s other equipment.

Jamison caught her staring and held up his mechanical arm, flexing the hand in front of his face.

“You wanna know how I got ‘em?” he asked brightly, then he winked at her, “I didn’t do it to meself, if that’s what yer thinkin’.”

“I will… admit to some curiosity,” Mei replied, finding it hard to meet his gaze for some reason.

“Most people think Oi blew meself up at some point,” Jamison began, “but that ain’t what happened. I was a young bloke, ‘round sixteen or so, scavengin’ the ruins of this ol’ factory, like. Suddenly there’s this whole pack ‘a omnics, least fifty of ‘em, fixin’ ta surround me. Now even back then I knew me way ‘round a bomb or two, so I took a few of ‘em out right at the get-go, but no way was I gonna make it long stayin’ out in the open. Then I sees this ol’ tower crane that’s still holdin’ up pretty good, and the operatin’ cabin still got the doors on. So Oi make a beeline fer it, dodgin’ bullets, and I’m  _ almost _ there when some lucky arsehole gets me in the leg. Takes it clean off.”

Here he held out his prosthetic leg and made a chopping motion at it with his hand, grinning.

“So of course I’m a bit off-balance at that point,  _ bam! _ I goes down, leaves me open for some other bloody drongo to get me in me arm. That shot wasn’t as bad, but it sure as hell  _ hurt _ . Somehow, though, I manage to scrape meself up to the crane and hole up without gettin’ shot again. Oh, they sure thought they had me then, but boy were they wrong!”

Jamison’s grin widened, approaching his usual manic look, as he held out his arms and mimed holding his grenade launcher.

“I wrapped up me arm, tied off me leg, and then I took out every single one ‘a those bloody omnics. A whole day an’ night we was firin’ at each other. Down to me last grenade and two pipe bombs when the last few decided ta try an’ rush me position. I waited ‘til they was clumped up at the door, then  _ BOOM!  _ blew the door right out at ‘em and took ‘em all out!”

“What happened to your arm, then?” Mei asked, entranced by his story.

“Wound got infected,” he explained, as though it were no big deal, “had ta come off.”

“My gosh,” Mei breathed, “I had no idea…”

Jamison was giving her an odd look, the corner of his mouth turned up in a wry smirk as his head was cocked to one side, then he laughed and looked up at the stars again.

“I like tellin’ folks that story,” he said, “cuz it’s a lot more interestin’ than what really happened.”

Mei blinked.

“What?”

Jamison sighed, and his smile turned wistful.

“I lost me limbs when the fusion core blew,” he admitted, his voice quiet and his gaze never leaving the sky, “Was just an anklebiter then. Got caught in some wreckage or somethin’. That’s what they told me anyways; I don’t really remember it.”

He looked down at his arm again.

“I don’t even remember what it’s like  _ not _ ta have these things anymore. All I know is that one day I woke up an’ everything I knew was just… gone.”

Mei felt her throat tighten. She bit her lip and looked down at her hands in her lap. She’d only woken up from hibernation a few years ago, so for much of Jamison’s life she had been asleep, blissfully unaware of the hardships the world was going through.

“We were stationed at Watchpoint: Antarctica when the storm hit…,” she said, “The base was damaged pretty badly and we were cut off. We tried to hold out for a rescue, but our supplies were running out, so we all went into cryostasis to wait until someone  _ could _ come for us. We thought it would just be a few weeks, maybe a few months, but... No one came. When I did finally wake up everything was so different. Overwatch was gone, disbanded, and the whole world had changed. It took me a while to understand that it was because I’d been asleep for… years. No one else from the research outpost survived. My family was gone. I didn’t even have Overwatch anymore. Everyone that was left had scattered. I had no home. No friends.”

She glanced over at Jamison, who was studying her face intently.

“I felt so alone,” she told him, and for the first time she felt like maybe someone else understood what that meant.

He smiled at her then, another truly warm smile, and he patted her gently on the head with his mechanical hand. His hair and eyebrows were a mess, his features a little too sharp, his nose a little too long, his teeth kind of awful. He was boorish, and vulgar, and obnoxious, and broken. In that moment, however, with the stars behind him and a gentleness in his eyes that she had never seen, with the night breeze carrying the crisp scent of autumn all around them, even Mei could not deny that there was a sort of adorable charm to Jamison Fawkes, and she found herself smiling in return.

“You’re a good little sheila,” he told her.

“I’m not sure what that means,” she giggled, “but I’ll take it as a compliment.”

“It means I like ya!” he said with a playful slap to her arm, “Er, y’know, as a comrade an’ all.”

They both looked away, each trying to hide their blush from the other, and Jamison at last cleared his throat and stood.

“Roight-o,” he said with a stretch, “best be gettin’ back in… side…”

He swayed on his feet, and Mei leapt up just in time to catch him before he fell. He leaned heavily against her, and Mei looked up at his face in alarm.

“You’re burning up!” she exclaimed.

“Heh heh,” Jamison giggled, “tell me somethin’ I  _ don’t  _  know.”

“Come on,” Mei insisted, “we need to get you to bed.”

She managed to get him off of the roof and back into the base with minimal difficulty. He staggered a few times, but Mei was able to hold him up, thankful that he was so thin.

“Holy dooley,” Jamison muttered, holding his head, “I feel off me face.”

“You shouldn’t have been sitting outside when you’re sick,” Mei chided.

“But it’s where  _ you _ were,” he mumbled, and Mei fought another blush.

“Let’s get you to bed, and I’ll bring you some medicine,” she said, desperate to change the subject.

“All right, all right,” he conceded, and he was quiet the rest of the way.

She laid him down in his bed (which he had already mussed) and was trying to figure out how to get his prosthetics off when he waved her away.

“I got it, I got it,” he muttered, “it's me own design anyhow.”

“You… You  _ made _ these?” Mei asked, incredulous.

“Well it ain't exactly easy ta find these bits in beanpole size in the middle ‘a the outback.”

Mei shook her head and smiled, “No, I guess not. Well, I’ll be right back.”

She turned to go get some medical supplies, but Jamison grabbed her wrist.

“Wait. Don't go yet,” he pleaded.

“I need to get you medicine and something to cool you off.”

“But I get cold just lookin’ at ya, remember?”

Mei rolled her eyes, but her smile remained.

“I  _ promise _ I’ll be back soon,” she assured him, and she gently took his hand off her wrist.

She stepped out into the hall and was headed off for the needed supplies when she was surprised to bump into Lena.

“Oh!” Mei cried, “You’re back!”

“Yep!” the other woman replied with a grin, “Just got in. Another job well done! How’re things here?”

“Jamison’s not doing too well, so I’m getting him some medicine.”

“Oh, yeah, sorry about saddling you with that. You want someone else to take over?”

“No, I got it!” Mei chirped brightly, and she continued trotting off down the corridor, leaving an astounded Tracer behind.

A few minutes later she was headed back to Jamison’s room. She could hear him coughing and sneezing from halfway down the hall, and she picked up her pace a bit. She found him curled up in a rather miserable looking ball, and she touched his shoulder gently.

“I’m back,” she said, “Here: I’ve got your medicine.”

He groaned and rolled over, blinking blearily up at her.

“Come on, Jamison, sit up,” she urged, and she helped him to a seated position.

“Ah, call me Jamie,” he mumbled, and he took the pills from her outstretched hand.

Mei handed him a glass of water, and Jamison knocked the pills back with a sigh. Mei laid him back down and placed a small cold pack on his forehead.

“That feels nice,” Jamison sighed.

“I made it!” Mei told him with a bit of pride, “It’ll stay cool for a long time. I mean, I wasn't expecting it to have  _ this _ kind of utility, but I’m glad that it's helping.”

Jamison smirked and a sparkle of mischief twinkled in his eye.

“I guess it’s fittin’ ya’d be the one ta cool me off, snowball” he chuckled, “though I didn’t expect ya’d be the one gettin’ me all hot ‘n bothered in the first place.”

“‘Hot and bothered?’” Mei echoed, confused, “But I didn’t get you sick…”

“I’m sayin’,” Jamison murmured, reaching across with his good hand to gently touch Mei’s cheek, “that I’ve taken a bit of a shine to ya.”

“Y-your fever is making you delirious!” Mei cried, her entire face turning beet red. His fingers were rough and calloused, the nails stained black (or were they painted?), and yet she didn’t shy away from his touch. Jamison’s own face was flushed as he looked up at her. Was it just from his fever, she wondered, or was there another reason?

Then he pulled his hand back and laughed, descending into a fit of giggles that knocked his cold pack off and just ended with him coughing.

“What’s so funny?” Mei asked crossly.

“Ah, yer such fun ta tease, snowball,” Jamison choked out between coughs.

Mei shook her head with a sigh and set his cold pack right again.

“Get some rest,” she told him and she turned to leave his quarters.

She paused at the door to flick the lights off, but something made her hesitate.

“If you were just teasing me,” she found herself saying, “did you mean anything you said?”

“Oi  _ do _ like teasin’ ya,” Jamison replied to her back, “but… I like makin’ ya laugh better. Ya got a pretty smile.”

She was silent a moment.

“Let me know if you need anything else… Jamie.”

She hurried out of the room without waiting for a response or even turning back. If she did he might see the color of her face, and it was currently putting the blush from when she had almost seen him naked to shame.

* * *

A few days later Mei lay in bed, groaning. Damn that filthy junker, coughing and sneezing all over her. Of  _ course _ she’d caught whatever he’d had; she’d come down with it the day before and had been holed up in her quarters since. She grabbed another tissue and blew her sore nose for the umpteenth time since she’d woken up. She sniffled and forced herself to sit up. It wasn’t very appealing to leave her bed, but she needed to get some kind of food in her system. Some hot green tea would be nice, too.

She was just swinging her legs over the side of her bed when there was a sharp knock at her door. She straightened her snowflake-print pajamas and cleared her throat.

“Come in,” she called.

The door burst open, revealing a grinning Jamison carrying a tray. The rest of the doorframe was filled by Roadhog, standing behind him.

“G’day, Mei!” Jamison chirped brightly, “Fancy some brekkie?”

“Wh-what?” Mei stammered.

“Well,” Jamison said, sauntering into the room, “Ya did such a bang-up job ‘a takin’ care ‘a me that me an Roadie here thought it only fair we do the same now that  _ yer  _ under the weather. So! Thought ya might want somethin’ ta eat.”

He presented her with the tray, upon which sat a bowl of… soup? It was probably supposed to be soup. It looked like he’d tried to cook a chicken leg (it was blackened) and then put it in a bowl with  _ some _ kind of broth and vegetables. Or maybe it was water. In either case the vegetables looked raw.

“Oh… uh… thank you,” she said, forcing a smile.

Jamison beamed.

“I know it ain’t as fancy as what ya made me,” he declared, “but this here’ll get ya back on yer feet in no time. Got lotsa nutrients and stuff. Oh, y’know, the other day I heard Dr. Mercy sayin’ fish got a lotta omega-somthin-er-others. Maybe I shoulda put some fish in it?”

Roadhog gave a bit of a snorting laugh behind Jamison, and the smaller junker whirled toward his friend.

“Oi  _ can too _ cook!” he snapped, “How’dya think I maintain me figure?”

He turned back to Mei and grinned again.

“Don’t ya worry, snowball,” he assured her, “Ya won’t havta lift a finger while I’m around. Just leave everythin’ ta ol’ Jamie, and she’ll be right.”

Mei stared down at the tray of ‘soup’ in her lap. If she could survive Jamison’s care, she thought grimly, she might just live long enough to actually get over her cold.

 

**_FIN_ **


End file.
